


Collection of Olicity Shorts

by fiacresgirl



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Nanda Parbat, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiacresgirl/pseuds/fiacresgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very short Olicity bits just for fun, crossposted from Tumblr.  They vary in explicitness.</p><p>1 - A Little Mistake, Could Happen to Anyone<br/>2 - A Bit of Risk-taking<br/>3 - Nanda Parbat Smangst, Part I<br/>4 - Unpacking Some QC History<br/>5 - Solace, a Drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Little Mistake, Could Happen to Anyone

“Whoops,” she whispered, and he heard her giggle a little nervously.

“Everything okay back there?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, just fine,” she said and he felt the the vibrations begin again. But something wasn’t right.

“Are you sure, Felicity?”

“Mmhmm,” she said. “It’s just that I thought this would feel different, that it would be different. I’ve always wanted to do this, but I’m not entirely sure...well. No, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

He craned his neck to look, but she put her hands firmly on both sides of his face and held it straight. “What did we say before we started this, Oliver? You have to be really still if we’re going to do it. I don’t want to damage you.” Her hands moved over the back of his neck and down his naked back, once twice, and then she blew across his shoulders gently.

Her warm breath should have felt sensuous, but frankly he was beginning to tense up. This wasn’t going the way he’d thought it might. Maybe they should have spent the extra money. Maybe he should have had her read the instructional manual before plugging anything in. The idea had seemed ridiculous then. Other people did this all the time. Some people did it every day, right? Right.

More vibrations, louder this time. And then: “Oh my God.”

“Talk to me, Felicity.”

“Um,” she said, “it’s not permanent. And honestly it was worse in Nanda Parbat, so there’s that...”

“But?”

“But maybe you shouldn’t have me cut your hair anymore, Oliver. It’s kind of super short here in back, and you know I think your head has a sexy shape, right? It’s just that that shape is going to be kind of the only thing people might focus on for a little bit. While the hair grows back.”

Oliver went to grab the mirror on the dresser, but Felicity beat him to it, and whipped it behind her back. “They say beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, right?” she said as she climbed in his lap, wriggling her way close to his chest. “Well, I think you’re beautiful.”

He gave a deep sigh and let her kiss him. “And besides,” she said. “It mostly looks okay here in front, so we’re good, right?”

“Right,” Oliver said. He dodged her next kiss to reach behind her and grab the hair-cutting kit’s scissors. “You said you needed a trim too, I thought. So sit still. I watched someone once, and I really think I’ve got this.”


	2. A Bit of Risk-taking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver pushes Felicity's privacy boundaries to get a certain response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a lot sexier than the other Oliver/Felicity stuff I've written. This was inspired by some of the revelations at 2015 SDCC and is set in the same universe as my [A Week off the Grid](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4181847?view_full_work=true), although it's not yet in the narrative. I may add it in later.

The barn was warm and still fairly light in the sleepy brightness of the long summer evening. In the lower level, the two dairy cows lowed, awaiting their second milking. A calico barn cat sauntered across their path followed closely by three kittens.

Oliver pulled Felicity further inside and back toward the farthest stall, the one that held the miscellaneous milking and harnessing equipment and not a horse.

“Pete’s going to be here soon,” Felicity said. “He does, you know...the cows at 7:30 every night.”

“I know,” Oliver said. He opened the stall door and shoved her in.

“So what are we do-- ”

Oliver twirled her around and kissed her. One hand cupped her face, and his mouth moved over hers slowly. “You said,” he grunted a little as he hoisted her up against the stall wall, “you said you were missing Starling City.”

She grasped his shoulders as she attempted to balance herself on him. “Starling...ah...mmhmm. What does this have to do -- ”

Oliver’s mouth moved south and clamped at the juncture on her neck, and, just like always, his stubble felt like a thousand sexy little spikes abrading her skin there. How she still had skin there, she didn’t know. He already had his hands up underneath her denim skirt and was sliding her damp underwear off. “The excitement, the feeling of getting away with something…” he said.

Felicity caught on. She’d been trying to explain to him earlier about risk and how she hadn’t really known how much she’d craved it until it was gone.

“Well, we’re at least a thousand miles from Starling. You can’t hack anything here, and I’ve got no reason to arrow anyone, but I can arrange for us to almost get caught.” He grinned at her warmly. “I’m useful that way.”

Felicity’s eyes widened and she looked around quickly. “You don’t mean Pete…”

“Mmhmm...Pete,” he said. “Whoever.”

“Oliver, no,” she said and batted at his arm. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to get caught _having sex_.” The last was a whisper.

Oliver unzipped his pants deftly with one hand. “I tell you what, Ms. Smoak,” he said, glancing at his watch. “You’re very capable and efficient. It’s a little after 7 now, and we both know Pete’s like clockwork. That gives us about 20 minutes to get the job done and get out of here.”

Felicity put her hand on his zipper. “Wait, wait! That’s not what I -- ”

“I know,” he said and kissed the corner of her mouth. “But it’s turning you on, isn’t it? The thought of Pete passing by, walking underneath us, coming up the stairs…”

“No!” Felicity said. “No, it’s not. I’m not an exhibitionist.” But she pulled the rest of his zipper down herself and roughly pushed the tops of his jeans off his hips. They were kind of tight over his magnificent ass, and at this angle she had to work a little.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, “It is.” And in one smooth motion he pushed inside her.

“Oooh,” she said and shifted her weight, lifting one of her legs higher up his back. She was amazed that he could feel this good coming into her every. Single. Time. How was that possible? But she was so slick and stretched and full, and he was so...right there, pressed entirely against her, eyebrows lifted, panting in her face. Smiling.

“God, Oliver,” she said. His hips rocked into hers in an even rhythm, and it was so...God, something… “Don’t stop doing that,” she said closing her eyes and leaning her head back, “Don’t ever stop.”

“Twelve minutes,” he said, his breath harsher. “We’re on a schedule.”

She opened her eyes and tried to focus them on him. Her shirt was coming off; he’d unbuttoned it and was now cupping her breast. Her shoulders were pressed against the rough wood of the stall wall, and it was creaking a bit every time Oliver banged her backside against it.

“And you’ve got to come twice,” he said.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No.”

“Yes,” he said. “Once is easy. You’re almost there already.”

And she was. Her muscles were clenching in rhythm, and her hands grappled at the back of his t-shirt, gripping it in her fists.

“You said you missed being on your A game,” he said roughly. “I’m almost embarrassed for you, Ms. Smoak.” He pulled the “s” in Ms. out into a long “z” sound. The “k” came out like a croak, though. She noticed the sweat beading on his forehead, the glazing of his blue, blue eyes. “Where’s the challenge in once?”

“The challenge?” she said, and there it was - _there it was_ \- flowing over her, that wave of pleasure. “Ah, aaah, mmmmm. Oliver!”

“Nice,” he said, and kissed her softly on the nose. He looked at his watch again. “Now one more. Eight minutes.”

“Eight minutes,” she said. “Oliver, no way. My back is getting slivers.”

“Easy enough to fix,” he said, and, holding her with one muscled arm, slid them both on the floor with him still straddling her. “I’d put you on top - you know I like that - but it would mess with what I’m doing here, and we don’t have much time.”

“What we’re doing here?” she asked. “ _What are we doing here?_ Besides having sex and eventually giving our host a nice show.” She wiggled underneath him, but he grabbed her arms and pulled them over her head, holding them with one hand.

“We’re exploring your control boundaries,” he said, pushing in and then pulling all the way out, slowly at first and then faster. “Figuring out how much of you has to not be in charge to get this done _right now_.” He grunted and slid his other hand across her stomach and down to the juncture of her thighs. “Look how well you’re doing, and I haven’t even touched you here. Who’d have guessed my IT girl had so much of a show to put on? Five minutes.”

“ _Five_ minutes?”

“Just do your part, and Pete won’t see anything.”

A part of her thought “No way no way no way,” but then she concentrated on him and his weight. He was keeping most of it off of her, but the arm holding hers was like a vice, and his hips and chest were pushing, pushing into her, and the way she couldn’t move, couldn’t shove against him, the way he held her down...

She felt that fluttering feeling building, the one that signaled something fantastic was on its way. Just then she heard a noise. It was the lower level barn door creaking open. She stiffened.

“C’mon now, Felicity,” Oliver said in a rasp. He was close, she could tell. He was probably sharpening arrows in his mind or something to keep his own orgasm at bay. She’d feel sorry for him except there wasn’t much room for any feeling except the building pleasure and now nerves.

“He’s just downstairs,” she said, panting. Then she heard a clanging noise, things being moved around. “He’s not coming up.”

“Oh, he’ll be up soon enough,” Oliver said.

“What!” Felicity said.

“Focus,” Oliver said. “Don’t think about him. Think about this,” and he pressed one of her legs up to her chest. The angle change made her gasp.

“Why’s he coming up here?” she asked. Her eyes were closed again, and she was moving her head from side to side. The noise from downstairs increased. The cows were moving around. And then she heard it. A footstep on the stairs.

“Because I took his milking buckets,” Oliver said. Her eyes snapped open and she saw for the first time that in the opposite corner of the stall were a whole stack of metal buckets.

There were more steps on the stairs.

“Just one more, Felicity,” Oliver said, and he slid his hand down and rubbed her there on her clit, and she didn’t think she could feel even more turned on, but it turned out that she could. Pete’s footsteps grew louder as they ascended the barn stairs, and Oliver was just everywhere, over and under, inside and out. His tongue was in her mouth and she --

Felicity’s vision whited out, and she was coming...coming, her whole body clenching. And so was Oliver. She barely stopped herself from clamping down her teeth on Oliver’s tongue. She didn’t want to scream or even groan with those footsteps so close, so close to the stall door…

But then they stopped, and she heard a another clanging and then the scream of metal scraping against metal. Oliver collapsed on her and began nuzzling her earlobe. His breath was uneven and she felt it puff against her neck, hot and moist. She held her breath. The footsteps moved away in the other direction, and she closed her eyes in relief.

“What...why?” she asked in a whisper.

“There were buckets outside the door too,” he said, and shrugged. “But if you’d known that…”

She huffed out the breath she’d been holding and swatted him on his massive shoulder. “If I’d known that, what?”

He gave her a sly, slow smile. “If you’d known that, you wouldn’t have come so hard you nearly passed out.”

She thought about swatting him again, but then she decided he was right. So she pulled his smug face down to hers and kissed him. 


	3. Nanda Parbat Smangst, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The post coital conversation Oliver and Felicity never really had in Nanda Parbat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s [for lerayon](http://lerayon.tumblr.com/), in honor of last night’s WWE cargo pants extravaganza. I hope it's smutty enough. I’ll try to follow up with that later. The smut fairy does what she likes.

When Felicity opened her eyes, she thought she’d still be in the red sex room, but maybe she’d hallucinated this whole thing - Ra’s al Ghul’s obsession with Oliver, the attack on Thea, their impromptu flight to Nanda Parbat, and the Lazarus Pit. It was pretty unbelievable. Not quite as unbelievable as Oliver’s weight on her, his warm breath slowing on her neck, and the prickle of his stubble not so gently scratching the corner of his jaw. Or the stretch of his huge cock inside her. Oh my god. The man was endowed, and there was something unalienably right about it.  

Of course, it wasn’t the first time she noticed his package. The man had pranced about the lair in leather pants for years, for God’s sake. She’d watched him thrust his hips toward her rhythmically on his salmon ladder a dozen times. She’d once written an Ode to Cargo Pants while she’d had some down time and her computers were otherwise busy running facial recognition. She erased it, though. Scrubbed it from the hard drive. It was gone. You couldn’t have your partner stumbling over badly written poetry dedicated to his, um, attributes and expect the relationship to remain the same. Their relationship had enough kinks in it as it was. Not the right kinks, though - not until now, that was. She giggled and adjusted her weight a little underneath him. He was still hard inside her, and it felt great.  

She felt Oliver lift his head and then the gentle press of his warm breath blowing on her forehead. She opened one eye.

“Hey,” he said. His face was too gorgeous, those blue eyes so close she could nearly measure the rings of darker blue at the edge of his irises. She closed her eye again. It was too much. He was too much.

He began to shift his weight and pull away from her, so she twisted her legs around the backs of his thighs and held on. “Don’t leave,” she said. Maybe should could attach her body to him permanently, like a barnacle. If she hampered his movements enough, Ra’s wouldn’t want him so bad. As a plan, it was better than half of the ones they’d come up with lately.

“Okay,” he said and shifted back. “This can’t last forever, though.”

“I think it can,” she said, “if we try hard enough.” She was no longer talking about the state of his physical arousal, but perhaps she hadn’t ever been. Penis as metaphor; it was something to think about.

“It really can’t,” he said, laughing. “No matter how tightly you twist your legs around me - not that I’m complaining.” He slid one hand down to her ass and cupped it. “Open your eyes?” he said and kissed the tip of her nose.

“No,” she said.

“Please?” he said.

She shook her head, emphatically. “If I open them, then this really happened. Which is good - I mean, great. It was great, you know. For me, anyway; maybe it wasn’t great for you…”

“It was unbelievably great,” he said. She could feel him smiling down at her.

“But then that also means the rest of this happened, and we’re here in Nanda Parbat, and this whole thing has a rapidly approaching end date. And no. No.”

“Felicity,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around his chest and clung to him there as well, but, damn it, he was right, that part was over. She opened her eyes, and the happy-sad-gentle look in his eyes just about killed her.

“How long do we have?” she asked.

“A few hours,” he said. “Maybe a little longer.”

“Are you so tired? Because I know you haven’t slept for days, and this whole thing with Ra’s and Thea, and her coming back from the dead: I can see the toll it’s taken on you. Maybe you should just sleep.”

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” Oliver said.

“Don’t say that,” she said. “ _Don’t say that_ .”

“All right, I won’t say it. I’ll sleep later - is that better? As long as I’ve got you here, underneath me, naked, I’m definitely not sleeping. I’d have to be insane to miss this. I’ve been dreaming about it so long.”

“You have?” she asked.

“You haven’t?” he asked.

“I have,” she said. “I definitely have! I just didn’t think...I wasn’t sure…you had.”

“I have,” he said. “For a long, long time. I’m not even sure how long. It feels like years.”

“Years,” she said, “And now we only have hours.” And then she pinched her lips shut. This had to be harder on him than anything he’d ever gone through. He was saying goodbye to his whole life, his dreams, and everyone he loved. She was only losing...well, sort of everything she’d ever wanted, but not her whole life on top of that. She could be stronger because that would help him get through this. She’d done it before, and she could do it again.

Felicity tried out a bright smile, and she knew from his expression that it didn’t quite take on her face, but “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Etc., etc. If she couldn’t quite look into his eyes and smile, she could reach down and squeeze his magnificent ass and smile. So she did. She grabbed it with both hands and leered a little at him.

“Nice. I’ve been waiting for years all this time to be able to touch your ass and make a smutty remark about all of this muscle - a smutty remark I didn’t have to be embarrassed about,” she said, clarifying. “And now I can.”

“And now you can,” he said. “You didn’t really hide it that well before, though - your admiration for my body. That much came through pretty clearly. At one point, I thought I was going to have to report you to HR.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a pretty great body,” she said, a bit defensively.

“ _Pretty_ great?”

“Okay, you know it’s amazing. I’m going to have to touch it now. All over. So you better emotionally prepare yourself. It’s going to get objectifying. You might feel a little like a piece of meat, but I’ll kiss it better after.”

He laughed, and then he hugged her and rolled them over so she was lying on top of him. “Do your worst.”

She propped her knees on either side of his body and sat up. “Those leather pants you wore, the Arrow suit? I’m going to have to hunt down whoever sewed those up for you and put her eyes out for her extreme attention to detail.”

“How do you know it was a woman?” he asked, his mouth quirking. “Sexist. It could have been a guy.”

“Was it a guy? If it was a guy, he was gay, then. Because those pants were made with love and some nasty, nasty ideas about your form.”

“It wasn’t a guy,” he said.

“I didn’t think so.”

“But she was like 65 or something.”

“Older women have needs too.”

He pursed his lips disapprovingly, but she laughed at him. “Oh, you’re Mr. Prude all of a sudden.” She ran a finger down the center of his chest and then slowly through the trail of hair that arrowed down his abdomen. Then she made grabby hands. “I really don’t know what to touch first. This is an embarrassment of riches. It’s going to have to be...your face.”

She leaned over him and planted her hands on either side of his head and then softly, softly kissed his lips. He hauled her down so that she was pressed against his chest and groaned into her mouth. And then she lost track of her sex plot outline for awhile while his mouth and his stubble did things to her lips that made her forget where she was and what exactly was going on. She’d waited so long to kiss Oliver, so long to feel this heat and pressure building, to feel his longing and care and _desire_ in physical form. It felt like an eon since their chaste kiss goodbye in the hospital corridor. Or the kiss he’d pressed tenderly on her forehead before he’d gone off to meet Ra’s the first time.  

And now she was a little mad. Because why was their timing so damn horrible?

She should be able to have this man in her bed, next to her, on top of her, beside her, inside her for the rest of her life. Not for another couple of hours. She was a good person. She’d made a lot of sacrifices for people, and, God damn it, was having her love available to kiss and hold her and _fuck her brains out_ too much to ask in return? It didn’t seem like too much, frankly. It didn’t.

And, with that anger, an idea began forming in her head.

 

>>\--->

 

Oliver felt the tension fill her body again. Her energy had been ebbing and flowing erratically, and he was grateful to her for making the effort to shore him up emotionally yet again, but he knew she was struggling not to either break into tears or rage. That’s not the memory he wanted her to have of the last time they spent together. He was still floating high on her “I love you,” so he could manage better than she could right now. He’d done more with less.

She loved him, after all. What a miracle that was. He could jump buildings with that. He could move mountains with that, and he hoped he’d be able to beat Ra’s with it too: her life-sustaining love.

What his life-sustaining love needed right now was to forget this was goodbye. He could do that for her. If there was one good thing to come out of his long career as a sensualist, it would be his loving, kissing, touching, feeling, fucking her until the only thing she remembered about this night was pleasure. He could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read through this and are wondering where part II is, please refer to this discussion, "[Nanda Par-smut? A Conversation about that Night](http://fiacresgirl.tumblr.com/post/127003146884/nanda-par-smut-a-conversation-about-that-night)." If that's disappointing, hopefully I can make it up to you in other ways.


	4. Unpacking Some QC History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets a package in the mail, and she and Oliver unpack it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read [this blog piece by Jennifer Crusie](http://www.arghink.com/2014/01/20/writing-the-first-meet-scene-arrow/) months and months ago when I first fell down the Olicity rabbit hole, and I've never looked at that QC ID badge the same way again.

Felicity was just about to grab the pair of scissors to open the large package that had arrived at their cottage when Oliver came back from his run, soaked with sweat. The days were getting shorter and the temperatures cooler, but he ran for an obscene length of time, and he always came back drenched and in a better mood.

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Thea forwarded it. Palmer Tech sent it to her since I no longer have an address in Starling City.” She slid the scissors down the center of the package and then slit the sides as well. The inside was full of packing peanuts that obscured the contents, so she started pulling things out randomly: a red mug, her wooden desk puzzle, a green glass decanter.

“What are those?” Oliver asked.

“Stuff from my office at Palmer apparently.” She searched through the box with her fingers. “There were three decanters on the little table by my desk. They looked kind of exotic, which is why I liked them, but they were really just from Pier One. I was on a budget when I started there.” She frowned. “I wonder if the other two were destroyed in the explosion.”

Felicity stuck her arm in all the way and felt around. She pulled out a sky blue angel matrioshka doll and looked fondly at it.

“Hey, I gave that to you,” Oliver said. “You had that on your desk?”

“No, that desk was all metal and glass. It didn’t even have drawers. I don’t know who designs a desk with no drawers - probably someone who’s never had to work at a desk.” She frowned. “I had a little shelf I kept things on in the far corner.”

“I got that for you in the gift shop in the Sheremetyevo airport while we were waiting for them to finish their second inspection of our plane.”

“I know,” she said, smiling.

“You kept it in your office?”

“I liked it,” Felicity said. “The angel is so pretty with her blond hair, her big blue eyes, and her soft pouty lips. I like how she glows with light, and I love how all the other little angels inside are all different but still beautiful until you get down to the fat cherub in the middle. He kind of looks like Winston Churchill.”

“He doesn’t look like Winston Churchill,” Oliver said.

Felicity carefully screwed open the layered matrioshka doll, putting each doll together separately largest to smallest. She picked up the tiniest doll and held it up to Oliver’s face with some satisfaction.

“Okay, he kind of does,” he said. “I never noticed that before. I only really looked at the outer doll. She reminded me of you.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap,” Felicity said.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and snatched up the largest doll off the floor, “Well, if you don’t like it, I can just take it back.” He held it above his head.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Felicity said. “Gimme my angel Felicity doll back.”  She leaned into him,  reaching up, but he pulled away from her and she overbalanced and fell into his lap.

“Not until you say you’re sorry,” he said.

“Sorry for what? Calling you a sap?” She sat up and looked pious. “ _Can_ we be sorry about telling the truth?”

“One more word,” he said with a clench of his hand, “and the doll gets it.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I called you a sap, you big sap. I just love that about you, Mr. Tough Guy. Dark soulless vigilante crime fighter by night, doll collector by day. You probably write poetry too, when I’m not looking.”

“The doll was for _you._ ” He laughed. “And I do _not_ write poetry.”

“So you say,” she said. She lifted her head up to kiss his mouth, but she sort of missed, so he leaned over, and while he was moving in, she grabbed the angel doll.

“Ha, ha!” she said. “Mine! Mine mine mine. Nobody threatens my matrioshka and lives to tell the tale.”

“You’re very scary,” Oliver said, deadpan. “And I’m still breathing.”

“I’m giving you a break this one time because you’re so pretty,” Felicity said. “Don’t push it.” She turned her attention back to the box. “Let’s see, what else is in here…”

A rectangular object turned out to be a picture of Ray and her, taken after the announcement of her promotion to vice president. Oliver frowned and got quiet.

“I never loved him, Oliver,” she said finally, “but he was a good guy. I liked that job, and he was helpful to both of us. You have to admit that, right?”

“Palmer was okay,” Oliver said in a flat voice.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said. “I mean, I suppose it was sort of inevitable, in a way. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to blow himself and an entire building up with science. I was just the first time someone wasn’t there to stop him apparently.” She remembered the night she’d averted disaster with Ray before and everything that happened afterward. That had been the night Oliver had gone back to Nanda Parbat, and she’d bottomed out on hope. Ray had been there for her then, and while what they’d had hadn’t been love, it had a least been something apart from despair. “It’s sad. I’ll miss him. I really will.”

Oliver gave her half a hug, cleared his throat, and put his hand in the box. He rummaged about. She didn’t think there was much left inside; it had seemed nearly empty before. Finally he pulled out a lanyard attached to her Queen Consolidated ID badge. The laminated surface had wrinkled a bit - from the heat of the explosion? It smelled like smoke too, but it still clearly read, “Felicity Smoak, Queen Consolidated.”

“You still have your QC ID badge?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she said.

“What about your Palmer ID badge?”

“Vice presidents don’t have to wear ID badges,” she said. “That’s one of the perks of the job.”

“Oh, it is?” he said. “But you still had one - for security reasons and all that.”

“I probably left it at home,” she said. “And now it’s packed up and in storage with all of my other stuff. I can’t remember.”

“So why would you have your Queen Consolidated one with you at work?” he asked.

“You know,” she said.

“No, I don’t know,” he said. “You had a handful of knick knacks in your overly sterile office--”

“Overly sterile? That was a great office,” she said.

“It was fine. A lot like the overly sterile office I had. Not very Felicity-like, though. Orchids?”

“What’s wrong with orchids? They’re very beautiful flowers.”

“They’re very delicate flowers. And they look like vaginas.”

She raised an eyebrow. He _would_ notice that.

“Anyway, moving on,” he said. “A handful of knick knacks, the matrioshka doll I gave you, and an ID badge from a company that no longer existed. You want to explain that?”

Felicity shifted. “I don’t actually. It was just there.”

“So,” he said, “you don’t know where your real ID was, but tucked somewhere in a drawer…”

“It was in the bathroom,” she said. “My private bathroom, in a basket with my makeup.”

“And you still had it because…”

“I don’t think I have to have a reason,” she said lifting her chin. “I liked it, and I kept it. Is there something wrong with liking an ID badge?”

“No,” Oliver said. “In fact...”

“In fact, what?”

“In fact,” he said, looping the lanyard around his hand, “I’ve always had a thing for this very ID badge, and I’m quite grateful you saved it, actually.”

“Grateful?” she asked. “Why?”

“Because ever since I saw you wearing this three years ago - that day I came to ask you about Derek Reston - you wore it over your prim pink button-down blouse, the badge hanging down between your breasts like a tag on a Christmas present - a Christmas present _with my name on it_ \- I have wanted to tie your hands up with the lanyard and fuck you until you screamed my name.”

Felicity swallowed. “Your name?”

“It’s the name on that badge, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.” Another swallow.

“And it hung around your neck?”

“Uh huh,” she said.

“It was a huge turn on, that ID badge. And I think we could put it to use. Right now. Give me your hands,” he said.

“Oliver,” she said.

“Hands,” he said, and she put them out in front of her. He gently looped the lanyard around them and then tied a firm knot.

“Oliver,” she said again.

“What?” he asked.

“That’s why I kept it,” Felicity said. “ _That’s_ why.”

“Great minds think alike,” he said and pulled her to him.

 

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble about need, set after 3x20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about the Summer of Sunsets and Porsches and everything Oliver was processing from S3, I wanted to see if I could write a true, 100-word drabble. 
> 
> This was the result.

Dark. Pressure. Heat.

He moans.

Alone in his nightmare

Except for the pain.

 

She pushes back, spreads 

Offers the salve of herself

As ease. 

 

The wetness on her shoulder differs from the one below. Between.

Sadder and more desperate.

 

In his dream, he whimpers:

 

Don’t go.

Never leave me.

So many ways to say

Stay.

 

Is she awake? She doesn’t know.

Does it matter?

He needs her, and she is there.

 

They are together, too close for grief

To remain.

Moving, gasping, grunting 

Pressing towards something better.

 

Not an ephemeral release. 

A fusing of souls, of grief. Bitterness transformed. 

Forgiveness. 


End file.
